


Botanical Exercises

by need_more_meta



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Flower Language, Fluff, Getting Together, Hot Mess Armitage Hux, M/M, Soft Kylux, king of courtship Kylo Ren, oh no he’s hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29783544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/need_more_meta/pseuds/need_more_meta
Summary: Hux finds a flower on his bed. Then another one. And another one.For Kylux Positivity Week 3.0, Prompt: “Flower Language” with a dash of “Oh No He’s Hot.”
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 24
Kudos: 133
Collections: Kylux Positivity Week the 3rd





	Botanical Exercises

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by the amazing [Hark_bananas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hark_bananas/pseuds/Hark_bananas). <3

The first time Hux finds a flower on his bed, he panics.

He draws his blaster and whirls around, ready for something to spring on him from the darkness.

“Lights, one hundred percent!” he yells, pointing his blaster frantically at the shadows.

He’s almost blinded when the lights obey his command, and it takes him almost a full minute to come to terms with the fact that there’s no one else in his bedroom. Breathing hard, he inches toward his refresher and throws the door open, barging inside with his blaster at the ready. The refresher is just as empty as the bedroom. He checks it thoroughly all the same, just to be sure.

He steps back into the room, his heart pounding hard in his chest. He checks the spaces under his bed and his desk, although he can see that there’s no one hiding there. He’s alone, nothing has been touched, and his bedroom is the same as always, except for the flower, a bright splash of colour against Hux’s black sheets.

Sheathing his blaster, Hux approaches the flower carefully, as if it’s rigged with explosives. For all he knows, it might be.

It seems like an ordinary flower, though. Bright orange petals around a yellow center. About the size of his fist. Long green stem. Completely innocuous.

Hux takes a picture and searches for it on the holonet. He finds a name, _gargrell_ , which tells him nothing. There isn’t much more information, certainly none of any interest. Just a flower, common to Outer Rim territories, widely cultivated. Not poisonous. Not particularly known for anything else, except its fiery colour. _The distinguishing feature of the genus is the peduncle, which is fistulose,_ whatever that means.

Whoever left it on Hux’s bed was trying to send a message, and Hux finds he doesn’t like it, even if he doesn’t exactly know what it is. It can’t be anything good, of that he’s sure.

He checks the security feed outside his rooms, but there’s nothing except for a slight glitch about an hour before the end of the day shift. It could be a regular equipment bug, but something tells Hux that this isn’t the case.

Someone had opened the door to Hux’s private rooms, and that someone also has the power and the access to alter security feeds.

Hux decides he doesn’t like anything about it.

He also decides he isn’t going to show his discomfort about the situation. Whoever it was, they must have been looking to intimidate Hux, make him feel unsafe in his own rooms. Hux would never give them the satisfaction of seeing him scared.

He changes the passcode to his rooms, just in case, and stashes his monomolecular blade under his pillow. Otherwise, he gives no indication that anything has happened. He’ll act normal and wait for his enemy to make their next move. Let them slip up, let them disclose themselves, so Hux knows where to strike.

And oh, strike he will.

He can play the waiting game. He can play it probably better than anyone else.

He tosses the flower into the trash and resolves to have a good night’s sleep, despite this pathetic attempt to rattle him.

The second time Hux finds a flower on his bed, he gets angry.

There hasn’t been any change in anyone’s attitude since the first flower, or at least nothing that caught his notice. Everyone behaved exactly the same toward him, and no matter how diligently he sniffed around for a whiff of betrayal, he couldn’t find anything. He almost started thinking that he had imagined the orange flower in a fit of exhaustion, a feverish dream brought on by overworking himself or worrying too much. He checked his datapad several times for the picture he’d taken, just to make sure he wasn’t losing his sanity.

Now here it is, a solid proof that someone is out to get him. A second flower. Hux checks his rooms again, although he knows he won’t find anyone or any other traces of someone else’s presence. Whoever it is, they only use their power to put a single flower on Hux’s thin black pillow and nothing else.

If it’s torture, it’s surely a very curious one.

Hux examines the flower. It’s smaller than the last one was, with five delicate, almost transparent white petals. The bottom petal has a few purple lines streaming down from the yellow center. In other circumstances, it would have been pretty, but Hux isn’t going to admire the aesthetics of a completely unsolicited gift.

He uploads a photo to the holonet, discovering that the thing is called a sun-dew flower, found in a wide range of climates and often grown in gardens for its ornamental value. There’s more information, but what catches his eye is a note in the trivia section: _The flower is widely used in Chandrilan courting rituals._ Apparently, the flower means _Let’s take a chance_ in the ridiculously complex flower language of Chandrila.

Chandrila.

Kylo Ren’s home planet.

This must be a disgusting coincidence, Hux decides. Someone is playing a practical joke on him, trying to make him lose his composure and start… what? Behaving irrationally?

Not a chance. Not a single chance in the whole wide world.

General Hux is above such petty games. He will not let himself be discomfited by something so ludicrous as a flower on his bed.

He disposes of the flower and changes the passcode to his door again. He keeps his blade close as he sleeps, the pillow still holding some of the flower’s fragrant scent.

The third time Hux finds a flower on his bed, he’s mostly annoyed.

He still checks his rooms dutifully and finds no one hiding there, as expected. He goes over the security feed, to absolutely no avail.

This is becoming bothersome.

The flower is about the same size as the previous one, with bright purple petals, looking as innocent as the others did. It smells nice, Hux notes abstractedly, as if that could help him get to the bottom of this.

According to the holonet, this one is a sachi blossom, colloquially called _heart’s ease_. Hux skips all the perfunctory details about the flower’s life cycle and habitat and goes directly to the trivia section. As he has begun to suspect, this one also has a meaning in Chandrilan flower language.

_You occupy my thoughts._

Ridiculous.

It can’t be a coincidence, not twice in a row, Hux tells himself. But it can’t be true, either. Kylo Ren simply _cannot_ be leaving him arcane messages with the help of flowers. Definitely not messages of courtship.

Something rotten is afoot, and Hux has no idea where to start untangling this mess.

He incinerates the flower and doesn’t sleep that night.

The fourth time Hux finds a flower on his bed, he flips.

He doesn’t need the holonet to look up the meaning of a bouquet of black roses laid across his pillow.

He checks anyway, and of course, it means, quite simply, _desire_ in the language of Chandrilan courtship. Of course it does.

Hux goes over the security feeds again and finds the same glitch, always at a moment when Hux is definitely busy and won’t be found anywhere near his rooms.

Only one person could possess such deviousness. Only one person would be arrogant and powerful enough to pull off such a stunt.

Only one person on this ship would know the flower language of Chandrilan courting rituals.

Hux pulls up the ship’s log and checks the dates when Kylo Ren’s private shuttle had arrived back on board after his enigmatic missions. They all match the days Hux found flowers on his bed.

This cannot be a coincidence. It just can’t.

It makes no sense, either, but Hux is past wanting sense.

Right now, he just wants to rage.

He straightens his uniform in an attempt to calm himself. It fails, and he strides toward Ren’s quarters with blood boiling under his skin. He slams the buzzer, almost breaking it.

“Open up, Ren. I know you’re there,” he grits out, doing his best not to shout for the entire ship to hear.

The door instantly slides open before him. It’s almost too easy. As if Ren is waiting for him.

Everything about this situation is ridiculous, Hux decides, stepping inside.

Ren is standing in front of him, facing him with his helmet and cloak on, as if he’s just returned from a mission. In fact, he just has, Hux saw it on the log. Ren’s probably tired, which is good. Hux wants him to suffer.

“You’ve been leaving flowers in my room,” he says, sounding venomous even to himself.

“So I have,” Ren replies, the vocoder stripping his voice of any emotion. He inclines his head to the side, as if he’s curious as to where Hux is going.

Hux is taken aback by the easy admission. “You aren’t even going to deny it?”

“Why should I?” Ren shrugs. “I wanted you to find them.”

This impossible, impossible man. Hux feels so furious, he’s sure his ears are steaming. “If this is some kind of game you’re playing—”

Ren cuts him off. “I thought you’d look them up.” There’s a tinge of something in his voice, distorted by the vocoder.

“I did,” Hux squeezes out through gritted teeth. His cheeks start to burn, and he’s surprised to feel shame in addition to indignation.

_Let’s take a chance._

“Then you know what I meant.” Ren slowly takes his gloves off and drops them on the floor.

_You occupy my thoughts._

“I don’t understand.” Hux frowns, suddenly lost. He isn’t afraid of Ren, never has been, and yet right now, something scares him, something large and looming in the space between them, something he doesn’t want to name.

_Desire._

“Why?” He feels young, asking this.

“Because I know how you look at me, General,” Ren says, stepping forward. “Because I heard you when you first saw me”—he reaches for the latches on his helmet and they hiss as he takes it off—“without my mask.”

Hux swallows and takes a step back. He can’t help it. It’s the same primal, guttural _“oh no he’s hot”_ reaction that shoots through him at the sight of Ren’s face that he can’t tamp down, despite doing his damnedest. There’s something about the long slope of Ren’s nose, the fullness of his red lips, the line of his jaw that makes Hux go weak in the knees. Everything about Ren is so large, and his face doesn’t make any sense. It shouldn’t be attractive, and yet here Hux is, desperately attracted to Ren.

“You attract me too, General,” Ren says, moving closer to Hux, so close that Hux can see his pupils dilate. He steps back again, until his back is flush with the wall.

This is going so wrong.

Hux thinks about yelling, sneering, humiliating Ren for the confession, exploiting the weakness so carelessly presented to him, but he finds he wants to do nothing of the sort. What he wants is Ren, always has, Ren on him and around him, his gloveless hands touching his skin, his lips on his mouth, his body pressed close against his. For a long moment, Hux feels he might drown in this want.

“Shh,” Ren says, stepping into Hux’s space until they’re breathing the same air. “All that you wish can come true.” His voice is low, going straight to Hux’s belly. “If you want,” he adds, cupping the side of Hux’s face in his hand, his thumb brushing Hux’s cheekbone.

“Ren,” Hux breathes out, momentarily unable to form any other words but Ren’s name. Ren’s other hand reaches up to smooth down Hux’s hair. “I, I, I,” he stammers. He cannot believe what he’s about to say. What he wants to say. What he _needs_. “I want,” he admits finally, his skin heating with shame.

Ren’s thumb traces the line of Hux’s bottom lip, and Hux can’t help his tongue darting out to wet his lips, which are trembling under Ren’s touch.

“So needy,” Ren chuckles, and Hux shudders, instantly humiliated. He almost throws Ren off, but Ren steadies him with his hands on Hux’s shoulders. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, General,” he says, somehow soothing and mocking at the same time. Or maybe Hux is imagining the mockery.

He looks into Ren’s eyes, takes in the golden flecks around the blown-wide pupils, searches them for the condescension he’s prepared to find, but finding nothing except lust and a hint of tenderness that he doesn’t expect in a man like Kylo Ren.

Maybe he doesn’t know Kylo Ren as well as he thought he did. Maybe the man can still surprise him.

Which Ren does, dipping his head forward and bringing their lips together. It’s a soft gesture and just a slight pressure, almost timid, as if he’s asking permission. Hux lets his mouth fall open under Ren’s, caution be damned. He’s wanted this for so long. He’d never imagined it could be real.

But real it is, and Ren is moaning into Hux’s mouth, his tongue delicate and exploring, his lips wet and greedy against Hux’s. He’s losing control, gradually but steadily, and Hux is terrified that the same is happening to him.

And then Ren’s hands are in his hair, sliding down his arms, settling on his hips, and Hux isn’t terrified at all.

He arches against Ren, noting the press of Ren’s erection against his thigh. Ren’s arousal hits Hux like a tidal wave, dragging him under with it, and he feels his own cock fatten, straining under the fabric of his trousers. Minutely, he imagines what the two of them must look like, the two most powerful beings in the First Order, rutting against each other like horny cadets.

“Would you prefer the bed, General?” Ren asks against Hux’s throat, his voice too collected for the state he’s so obviously in.

“As a matter of fact,” Hux starts, trying to mirror Ren’s calmness, “I would, yes.” He’s panting too hard, and his voice sounds unraveled, but he’s past caring.

Ren takes his hand, the grip of his calloused fingers gentle but persuasive. He leads Hux backward to his bed until the back of his knees touch the mattress and he sits down on it, leaning back and tugging Hux down with him. Hux finds himself straddling Ren’s lap, their hands joined together on each side of Ren’s face, Ren’s hair fanning out on the sheets, black on black.

“You’re beautiful,” Ren says, with an intense sincerity that only he seems to be capable of, and it almost suffocates Hux.

Embarrassed, Hux dives down to press their lips together, hiding in the heat of their kissing. He takes his hands away from Ren’s and starts pulling at Ren’s clothing, keenly aware that there’s way too much of it. He fumbles with Ren’s belt buckle, then lets Ren sit up on the bed to remove his cloak and his tunic, then his black undershirt. Hux doesn’t know how long he spends marvelling at the marble of Ren’s chiseled chest, the flat plane of his stomach, the ragged scars traversing his pale skin. It’s a lot, it’s too much, and Hux can’t get enough.

Slowly, Ren’s hands start unbuttoning Hux’s uniform, removing Hux’s belt and pushing the jacket off Hux’s shoulders. Languidly, he pulls Hux’s gloves off. There’s no hurry to his movements; instead, there’s a certainty, which acts as a reassurance to Hux, like what they’re doing is right.

Hux stands up to lose his pants and boots, together with his underwear, as Ren wriggles out of the remnants of his own clothes. They’re both naked, now, fully hard, looking at each other with wonder, caught in a moment of disbelief. Then Ren crawls backward on the bed and Hux drops down next to him, and they’re wrapped around each other in an embrace so tight no force in the world would be able to pry them from each other.

“General,” Ren groans against Hux’s lips, as their hips jerk desperately, trying to gain some friction against each other.

Hux kisses Ren savagely, hard enough to bruise, and he makes a decision. “Hux,” he tells Ren, pulling backward for a second to look Ren in the eye.

“Hux,” Ren agrees, a smile dancing on his swollen lips. He raises his hand and something rattles in the drawer of his bedside table. Then the drawer opens and a small plastic tube flies into Ren’s fingers.

“Is that lube?” Hux asks, eyebrows shooting up.

“I was expecting you,” Ren offers as an explanation with a shrug. Hux almost sputters, then barks a laugh.

“So arrogant,” he says, and it sounds fond.

Ren pours the lube onto his palm and takes them both into his enormous hand. The pressure is just right, and the slicked skin of his hand slides easily against their overheated cocks. Hux moans gratefully, hips stuttering into Ren’s grip. Ren’s other hand twists in Hux’s hair, pulling lightly, until Hux all but whimpers from pleasure.

“Ren,” he begs, and somehow doesn’t hate himself for begging. “Ren.”

His hands are all over Ren, as if he doesn’t know which part of Ren to touch first. He wants all of it. He wants all of Ren, right now, without any delay. He wants to touch every millimeter of skin, kiss every single mole, catalogue everything there is to know about Ren’s body.

“Shh,” Ren whispers to him, even as his hand picks up the pace, jerking them both off. “We’ve got time.”

Hux digs his nails into Ren’s back at that, driven mad by the concept. More time, with Ren. It’s something he’s never even dared to dream about. He’s a General of the First Order, and his time is too precious for this kind of personal indulgence.

And yet Ren says he can have it, and how can Hux doubt the words of his co-commander, his only equal both in rank and otherwise?

Ren’s hand closes tightly around them, and they come together, Ren with a grunt, and Hux with a shout that leaves him breathless. Ren strokes them through their orgasms, his touch light and careful. Hux clings to him, unable to suppress a sob of awe and gratitude.

His head is a clear white space with Ren’s name written over it, and he can’t find it in himself to be appalled at the thought.

Ren summons a towel from the refresher and wipes them clean before gathering Hux into his arms. Ren’s embrace is cozy and warm, and Hux doesn’t want to leave it, ever, even if it looks suspiciously like post-coital cuddling, another completely inappropriate indulgence that doesn’t have a place in his life.

They breathe together for a few minutes, learning to exist in each other’s presence when the space between them isn’t charged with animosity, anymore. Hux feels sensitive, electrified, but also protected in a way he’s never felt before. Ren’s arms around him make him feel safe, something he’d have dismissed as ridiculous a mere hour ago.

A lot of things can change in an hour.

As Hux contemplates this surreal change, a thought presses into his mind, an irregularity that leaves him restless, even in his current boneless state.

“Ren,” he says, turning in Ren’s arms to face him.

“Hmm?” Ren’s hands glide up to stroke Hux’s back.

“What did the first flower mean? The orange one?” He rubs the pad of his thumb against the corner of Ren’s closed eye, demanding his attention. “I couldn’t find anything on the holonet.”

“Nothing,” Ren tells him, leaning into Hux’s touch. He opens his eyes and the fondness in them almost knocks Hux’s breath out. “It was the color of your hair. I saw it, and I thought of you.” He brings his hand up to tuck a stray strand behind Hux’s ear.

Hux would recoil at that explanation if it didn’t make him glow with warmth throughout. It’s sentimental, unacceptably so, and still it makes Hux insanely happy.

“You thought of me in the middle of killing the enemies of the First Order?” There’s a power in this image, and Hux relishes it, discarding all his other concerns for the moment.

“I’m good at multitasking,” Ren says, brushing his lips across Hux’s forehead.

“No, Ren,” Hux laughs. “You are not.” Ren is probably the most single-minded person Hux has ever met. Like an attack dog, he latches onto his target and doesn’t let go until he’s told to drop it.

“No,” Ren agrees placidly, “I’m not. I forgot all about the enemies.”

It’s a lie, and they both know it, but there’s something sinister roiling underneath it. Hux sighs, reluctant to acknowledge it, though he’s still going to.

“This is bad,” he whispers, hiding his face in Ren’s broad chest. Ren’s arms tighten around him. They shouldn’t have this, this strange convoluted thing between them. It’s a luxury they cannot afford. An aberration from the straight paths of their lives. It’ll be the death of them, one day.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Ren says, pressing kisses to the top of Hux’s head.

Hux sighs again, burrowing deeper into Ren’s warmth, unwilling to let go. “It’s a distraction.”

“I’ve never felt more focused,” Ren counters, and Hux knows he’s telling the truth. He can feel it, too, a gentle press of Ren’s emotions against his own inside his head, like a current passing in parallel with the stream of his own thoughts. It thrills him, the fullness of Ren’s attention, the strength of it, the exhilaration.

Maybe Ren is right, again. He’s been right so far.

And Hux desperately wants to believe him.

He sees it so clearly, like Ren is showing it to him in his own mind. The two of them, together, at the helm of the universe. It’s magnificent; more than that, it’s real. It will be. If only he’s brave enough to take it.

“Stay with me,” Ren says into Hux’s hair, his hands clutching at the small of Hux’s back.

For better or for worse, Hux does.

The next time Hux finds a flower on his bed, it’s a single golden rose, and the newly pronounced Supreme Leader Kylo Ren is there, offering it to him in his outstretched hand.

“What does this one mean?” Hux asks, approaching the bed and tugging off his gloves.

“ _Rule with me_ ,” Ren replies, his eyes shining in the low light of the room.

Hux traces a finger along the rose’s stem in Ren’s hand, mindful of the thorns. It doesn’t sound like something from a traditional courting ritual. “Are you making this up?”

Ren raises his chin, defiant. “Doesn’t make it less true.”

“No,” Hux agrees, “it does not.”

“Do you accept?” Ren asks, stretching the hand with the rose further toward Hux. There’s a plea in his eyes, and a confidence, and the burning passion that never fails to fill Hux with warmth.

“Yes, Ren,” he says, taking the rose from Ren and leaning down to press a kiss to Ren’s lips. “I do.”

So what if it’s not traditional. It’s theirs. Everything is.

**Author's Note:**

> The flower language comes from [here](http://www.allflorists.co.uk/advice_flowerMeanings.asp).
> 
> This fic is [retweetable](https://twitter.com/need_more_meta/status/1366456959021555717) and [rebloggable](https://need-more-meta.tumblr.com/post/644479582911823872/botanical-exercises-needmoremeta-star-wars)!
> 
> If you see something you like, let me know! I'd love to hear what you think. :3
> 
> Come say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/need_more_meta) and/or [Tumblr](https://need-more-meta.tumblr.com/)! <3 And check out my other works for more soft Kylux content! ;)


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